


Run

by Jinmukang



Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Broken Bones, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Failed escape, Hugs, Mind Control, Near Death Experiences, Past Child Abuse, Rescue, Whumptober 2020, comic logic, dick has a big family that cares for him okah?????, hes just working through some things and under mind control..., no.5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26830729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang
Summary: "Bruce?" Dick asked, his voice sounded way stronger than what he felt, even with the change in tone thanks to the broken and bleeding nose. He lifted his arm to his nose and used the sleeve of his suit to wipe away some of the blood. "B? What's going on?""Run," Bruce snapped, causing Dick to stop in his tracks and stare wide-eyed. "I can't- it's strong- I'm fighting it but-" Bruce gasped a deep breath, his face scrunched up in what looked like physical pain. "Dick RUN. Lock me in here- I don't- arrgh-!"And that was the only warning Dick had before Bruce was barreling forward once again, an emptiness in his red eyes that wasn't there a moment before.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946413
Comments: 37
Kudos: 276
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> day five!
> 
> fair warning though, i tried a different writing style with this one and then tried to edit this at 11 at night, so i apologize beforehand for grammar mistakes.

Dick didn't know how or when he first realized something was wrong with Bruce. Only that one night they were alone together in the cave, having sent Damian upstairs for rest and everyone else out doing their own things at their own places. He didn't know if it was the way Bruce's shoulders would tense whenever Dick came near, or if it was how clipped and angry his voice was on the comms during the rare—even for him—times he talked. 

Maybe it was just a third sense located somewhere in Dick's mind, set to scream whenever his gut instinct decided that something was off. Not right. 

"Bruce?" He asked, taking a cautious step forward even though he couldn't think of any reasons why he should be so cautious. Bruce tensed the moment Dick came too close, his muscles bunching like a viper, ready to strike the second it was able to. Dick realized too late that the thing he was preparing to strike at would be… Dick himself. 

Dick took another naive step forward, unaware just how much danger he was in until Bruce turned from the computer and in a blink of an eye, he grabbed Dick by the hair and slammed his face on the keyboard of the batcomputer.

Immediately, blood erupted from his sinuses following the sound of a sickening snap. Tears filled his eyes because of the pain, and it was all he could do to throw his body away from the monitor to avoid getting his skull caved in by a heartless fist.

Lettered keys went flinging as Dick went rolling on the hard floor of the cave. His ears rung as bats screeched from above like some sort of audience. Excited to see who would win. 

A kick came for Dick's stomach, which he was just barely able to scramble out of the way of. His heart pounded in his chest like a startled cartoon character as he forced himself to his feet, blood dripping over his mouth and off his chin. He didn't need to touch his nose to know it was definitely broken. He could feel it clear as day--the pain like two knives shoved up his nostrils.

Now that Dick was on his feet, he immediately got into a defensive posture, latching onto the first sight of Bruce through his teary vision. His heart skipped a beat at the sight before him; Bruce clutching to the back of the computer chair, his mask pulled off his face to show that the whites of his eyes were now red, pupils blown wide and mouth turned down into a snarl. 

Bruce's eyes darted up from wherever he had been looking towards to stare right at Dick, but he didn't make any moves to attack. Confusion, hurt, anger, and betrayal swirled in Dick's gut like a specialty drink at a bar. 

"What the hell is-" Dick started, but Bruce's stare turned intense, causing Dick to subconsciously stop mid sentence. 

"Dick," Bruce grunted, his voice sounded like he'd just been strangled by a python for a few hours. Filled with gravel and sandpaper. It sounded painful. Physically… and perhaps emotionally too. Dick's rather good at reading Bruce, even though everything he was seeing right now was so… so  _ wrong _ . 

Then Bruce continued, gurgling out a single word that activated every single flight or fight response in Dick's body. 

"Run."

Dick took a moment to catch his breath, watching helplessly as Bruce moaned painfully--clutching the chair even harder than before, as if it was no longer a way to keep his balance, but a way to keep him from going anywhere. Something very, very wrong was going on. Well, that much was obvious. Bruce didn't… he didn't hit Dick. Anymore at least. Not since Spyral... and It wasn't like anything verbal was said between the two since then. A  _ sorry  _ for every time Dick found himself at the punching end of a fist normally directed to the worst of the worst in the city of Gotham. But Dick could tell. Bruce regretted it. Dick had forgiven him. So there  _ had _ to be… a reason for this. A reason that wasn't Bruce falling into old habits and mistaking Dick for a punching bag. 

So what was it? Brainwashing? Drugs? 

Dick knew Bruce told him to run, but he… he couldn’t just leave Bruce there while he was clearly fighting against something. 

Slowly, he moved a foot forward, the soles of his suit’s shoes scraped against the rocky ground. He lifted his arms, hoping to look pacifying and non-threatening. He didn't know what set Bruce off, but he'd like to at least take basic soothing motions to avoid another face-to-keyboard event. 

"Bruce?" Dick asked, his voice sounded way stronger than what he felt, even with the change in tone thanks to the broken and bleeding nose. He lifted his arm to his nose and used the sleeve of his suit to wipe away some of the blood. "B? What's going on?"

" _ Run _ ," Bruce snapped, causing Dick to stop in his tracks and stare wide-eyed. "I can't- it's strong- I'm fighting it but-" Bruce gasped a deep breath, his face scrunched up in what looked like physical pain. "Dick  _ RUN _ . Lock me in here- I don't-  _ arrgh- _ !"

And that was the only warning Dick had before Bruce was barreling forward once again, an emptiness in his red eyes that wasn't there a moment before. Thoroughly freaked out now, Dick took Bruce's advice to heart and turned tail, already mentally mapping his route to the grandfather clock and the emergency lock down on the other side. It was not the first time something sinister had crawled it's way into the cave, and it certainly won't be the last. 

All Dick needed to do was make it up the stairs before Bruce caught up. 

Which, like most things, was easier said than done. 

He was just barely up several stairs towards the exit when a hand suddenly wrapped around his ankle. For a moment, genuine fear spiked through his chest as the hand yanked on his leg, causing Dick to lose balance and fall forward. He brought his hands down in front of him, using them to catch his fall, but the sudden velocity and movement caused his nose to pulse angrily like it had an upset heartbeat of its own, which in turn caused his head to go light-headed for a moment. A moment too long. 

He twisted onto his side, kicking out with his free leg right where Bruce's hand still wrapped around Dick's ankle. Bruce growled when Dick's heel met flesh, but barely even flinched. Just yanked Dick downward, the edges of the stairs hitting his spine whith every foot dragged away from escape. 

As Dick kicked again--this time at Bruce's face--he thought about his options. He could escape this grasp on him, easy, but Bruce was fast. Faster than most people, especially considering his well muscled build and weight. Dick was lighter, shorter, and quicker on his feet, but Bruce knew how to chase people that were faster than him. Bruce was always like a predator of endurance whenever he and Dick sparred, using Dick's quick movements against him until Dick was forced to take a breath. They say you can walk a runaway cat to exhaustion. It was much the same way with Bruce. 

Whatever was going on, Bruce knew how to fight, even with his potentially brainwashed or controlled mind. If Dick ran back up the stairs when he got free of the grinding grasp on his ankle, there was a pretty high chance that Bruce would make it there anyways and stop Dick before Dick could lock him in.

If that happened, then Bruce wouldn't have any reason to stick around in the cave after fighting and potentially beating Dick. He'd move around the manor, looking for more fights, or for whatever this new version of Bruce wanted to look for if not just a fight, and eventually he'd run into Alfred. 

And Damian. 

Dick's known Alfred long enough to know the man had no issue with fighting back dirty. But Damian… Damian refused to fight Bruce under most circumstances. After that whole Joker fiasco where they were all abducted and mentally tortured by the Joker and forced to believe the skins of their own faces had been peeled off, Dick had overheard Bruce lecturing Damian on the importance of fighting back, even if the person you're fighting back against was your own family.

Dick didn't know what exactly went down that resulted in the capture of Damian by the Joker's hand, but it must have involved a Jokerized Bruce and a Damian who didn't fight as hard as he should have because he was too afraid to hurt his father. 

If Bruce escaped to the manor now, like this, brainwashed or mind controlled as he is, Damian won't fight back like he should. 

Dick could not let Bruce into the manor, not under any circumstances should he leave Alfred and Damian to fend for themselves against a Batman who wasn't in his right mind. 

With his mind made up, he kicked one more time at Bruce, using as much force as he could within the tight range of motion he had on the stairway. His heel whacked against Bruce's jaw, forcing the man's face backwards with a snap. The grasp on his ankle loosened ever so slightly, allowing Dick to tug himself out of the hold and grab into the railing of the stairs above him. In one fluid motion, Dick was one his feet, watching as Bruce recovered quickly from the blow. 

With a split second to execute his decision, he didn't even look where he was going. He just grabbed the railings and swung under the bars as Bruce's hand shot out and just barely missed gripping and tearing out a chunk of his hair. The fall to the floor of the cave wasn't long, and he was able to easily lessen the strain of the landing by rolling onto his back and jumping upright onto his feet, leaving him able to immediately begin sprinting away from Bruce. He could hear heavy footsteps pounding after him, and while that made his heart clench in a very agonizingly painful way, it also filled him with just the right amount of adrenalin to ignore how light-headed he was from the broken nose. He could barely taste the blood on his lips, his tears were beginning to dry. 

Or he was just getting used to blinking them out of his eyes the more they formed. He hoped he didn't have tear streaks on his cheeks, mixing with the blood and dripping down onto the ground as he ran like he was in some sort of gore film. 

He came to a skidding halt right beside the batcomputer. He didn't need to waste any time searching for the button he needed to press, it wasn't the first time they've had to lock down the cave from the inside. He smashed the emergency button just as a fist grabbed onto the back collar of his suit, dragging him back in a choking tug as the soft yellow and white lights above the cave shut down with a whirl, the color being replaced quickly by harsh and flashing eye drilling red. 

A piercing alarm screamed out as a heavy arm wrapped over Dick's throat. Dick felt crushing pressure immediately begin to press on his windpipe, and with a choked cry, Dick grabbed onto the arm and bent forward with all his strength, hitting his elbows into Bruce's gut. He flipped Bruce over his back. The sound of Bruce in all his heavy armor hitting the cave ground as bats screeched and alarms blared was almost comical, but Dick didn't stick around long enough to figure out how funny Bruce thought it was. 

He would be stuck down here for the next who knew how long. No way out, no way in, not until the right codes, used by the right people were used. And in this case, because Dick activated the alarm with Bruce in the cave, two codes used by any other member of the family will have to be used as a precaution. Because Damian was still young, he didn't have the clearance for that. It would have to be Alfred who put his codes in from the outside as well as somebody else. 

The closest bat with shut down codes would be Tim who was currently on the other side of Gotham, probably asleep in the penthouse. Jason would probably be closer, but honestly Dick wasn't sure if Bruce gave Jason access to that level of security in the cave yet. 

Hopefully the emergency texts sent out like they're supposed to. Every bat within the borders of the United States should already have their messages. In twelve hours, if the issue wasn’t resolved within the cave, bats outside the country will get a text. Twelve hours after that, the Justice League would be notified. 

Dick hoped it didn't get to that point. 

Tim. It would have to be Tim. 

Dick ran as fast as his legs could carry him toward a particular hiding spot in the cave he'd known the existence of since he was a kid. It was just large enough for Dick to crawl through when he was still sporting pixy boots and a cape. Now it would be a tight squeeze, with Dick having grown over the years, but thankfully his body type remained small and lean so with enough wriggling he should be able to get in. 

Bruce was on his tail, panting like a bloodhound on the trail of a startled rabbit. Dick didn't dare waste time and look behind him as he retreated. Bruce would only catch up faster that way. So Dick ran past the most used parts of the cave down towards where the stone became uneven and filled with puddles, stalagmites jutted upwards and the ceiling and walls became less wide.

He jumped over a small underground stream, then latched his hands around a formation of rocks that were slick with water. He then proceeded to use those rocks as hand and footholds to climb up the low hanging ceiling towards a small hole carved into the rock thanks to the centuries and centuries of running water. He dragged himself upward into the hole, wincing at how the rocks clawed into his sides and stomach, but thankfully he was able to quickly slip in before he heard the stomps of Bruce's footsteps approach ever closer.

Dick had never been more thankful for night vision than what he was just now. It made it possible for them to not waste power by supplying light only to the most used parts of the cave, which, in turn, caused dark shadows to form where Dick hid. He squeezed himself back as far as he could into the pocket of space that was chiseled into the ceiling, then watched with wide eyes as Bruce finally came into view. 

He looked like a demon. A hulking, beast of man with teeth bared and fingers splayed like claws. Bruce growled and looked around the surrounding cave, making increasingly frustrated grunts the more time that passed with Dick not being found.

After a few minutes, Bruce seemed to get a mixture of  _ too-frustrated-to-care _ and bored, so with a final growl, he turned cape and stalked back towards the main sections of the cave. 

Dick released his breath about a minute after. His heart pounded so loudly that he was sure for a minute there that Bruce would find him by the noise alone. But for now, it looked like he was safe.

He let himself relax ever so slightly, letting the adrenalin drain to the point he could actually feel how messed up his nose was. 

He lifted a hand to his nose and tapped lightly on the tender skin and bone. He winced, knowing even without a mirror or a doctor's opinion that this wasn't the kind of break you could just snap right into place. Dick was lucky Bruce hadn't slammed him down harder. The shards could have gone to his brain. 

With that morbid thought, he pushed the pain aside when his communicator began to beep urgently in his ear. He poked his head out of the hole to see Bruce pacing the middle of the cave, his hands in his hair and his footsteps rushed and unsteady. Dick slowly brought his bloodied fingertips to his comm and took a deep, low breath. 

"Nightwing," he muttered in answer to the beeping. He winced at his own voice. Barbara used to make fun of him saying the reason stakeouts and covert missions always went wrong whenever he was a part of them was because boys didn't know how to whisper. 

Static flickered in the earpiece, the lock down of the cave causing the signals to be bounced and absorbed in the walls. He frowned and tapped the wiring, fighting a flinch as Bruce yelled angrily in his section of the cave, causing something heavy and glass to shatter on the floor. 

" _ -ser Dick, what- _ \--" 

It was Alfred's voice. But Dick could barely make it out. No doubt Alfred and Damian were in a frantic panic upstairs, confused and worried about what could have caused the cave to go under lockdown. While Bruce restarted his pacing, Dick spoke as quietly as he could into the comm. 

"I don't know if you can hear me, but Bruce has been compromised. Something is… warping his mind to be violent. Don't open the cave until you're sure whoever is on the other side can take him down. N out."

More static vibrated in his eardrums, cut off voices of Alfred and maybe Damian demanding he elaborated, but Brice was deathly still now. He stood in the middle of the main section of the cave, unmoving as a statue. Immediately, Dick felt his adrenaline begin to rise again. 

That couldn't be good. 

He reached up as slowly as he dared to take his static filled communicator out from his ear—which was probably something he'd regret later, but for now the noise was distracting him—and watched as Bruce's arms slowly began to move in slow, jerky movements that could only be explained by Bruce probably not knowing if they belonged to him. 

Bruce flexed his fingers. Looked around the empty cave, then immediately began to remove his utility belt. Dick watched in a cocktail of confusion and curiosity as Bruce held the belt in his hands for a moment before hurling the accessory away from him toward one of the drop offs that lead to the underground rivers below. 

What the hell? 

Those rivers didn’t lead anywhere. There were a million different channels with hundreds of twists and turns, spelunking these caves would be like signing a death warrant. There wasn’t any telling where the belt would end up. Why did Bruce…?

And then Bruce grunted and grabbed at his hair, shaking his head, lips moving in some sort of silent fight with himself. 

Whatever was controlling Bruce: Bruce was pushing back against it. Bruce lost the belt so he could insure he wouldn't use it against Dick or anyone else who eventually entered the cave. 

Then, Bruce turned and stalked towards the lab tables, grunting and snarling at himself as he stuck a needle in his arm and drew blood. 

Bruce was back. He was doing blood work on himself to cure whatever was going on. 

Excitement and relief flooded Dick's veins, and he nearly began to exit his hidey-hole, but then Bruce proved himself to be ever vigilant and paranoid. "It's not done, Dick. Don't come out."

Dick froze at the tone. It was still glutal. But there was something laced in there that almost sounded worried and afraid. 

"I don't know where you are. Keep where you are, stay silent, stay safe."

Dick longed to ask what was going on. Why Bruce was like this. Dick wasn't ever very good with being kept in the shadows, he liked his colorful suits for a reason after all. He wanted to go out and help while Bruce was in this odd period of lucidity, but for all he knew, the distance between the two could be what was helping Bruce stay sane at the moment. Perhaps the violent tendencies were activated by close proximity. 

Dick was definitely not about to test that theory. 

He swallowed and settled back, listening to Bruce work on his own blood, trying to figure out whatever had made him act this way and cure it. 

A few minutes passed, minutes filled with Dick feeling more anxious than an opossum faced by a group of angry humans. His heart refused to stop thudding against his ribcage as he listened to the tinkling of glass and mixing liquids.

Maybe this could all be over soon. Maybe this will be just a normal Wednesday night and they'll all soon be back in bed and laughing about this. 

When Bruce spoke up again, Dick knew the night could only get worse. 

"Chum?" Bruce asked, and that was how Dick knew it was really Bruce talking. No evil villain or brainwashing drug had ever managed to make Bruce say that word with that much meaning. "Don't answer, but the solution will need time to become active. The… urge to become violent is becoming stronger. Like it can sense I'm trying to stop it. To avoid… destroying the antidote, I am going to try and…" a grunt escaped Bruce's throat. A deep breath. Dick wrapped his fingers around his opposite wrist. "-and sedate myself before that happens. I need you to get me to the med bay and restrain me until the antidote is completed."

Dick almost wanted to laugh out a joke. Something with a " _ awe, sleeping on the job while I do all the work _ ?" or " _ Gosh, B, this is the fourth time you've been hit with a mind altering drug this year _ !" but he choked down those words and swallowed them. He remained silent, like Bruce told him to bee, and slowly began to squeeze out from his hiding spot. As he did so, he watched with critical eyes as Bruce turned from the lab tables towards the med bay, a purpose in his step even though there was a slight lethargic drag to his bending knees. It was almost like Dick was watching a robot, one that didn't know it's own body yet and had to intently focus on each body part before it moved. When Bruce entered the med bay, Dick lost sight of him. The medical area of the cave was in its own separate room, carved into the cave and lined with layers of cement and insulation to keep it the perfect temperature for whoever was injured inside. Bruce left the door open though, so once Dick was on the ground of the cave, he was able to sneak over to the foot of the dinosaur and see just barely inside the medbay. 

His heart sank at what he saw. Of course it couldn't be easy. Of course Bruce couldn't have lasted a little longer to get the sedative into his own arm. 

He was just standing there, the sedative in his hands, glaring at it with an angry downturn to his brow. 

Dick took a silent breath and weighed his options once again. He could go in there and try to sedate Bruce himself, or he could go back to his hiding spot and wait this out.

Bruce suddenly turned his head and Dick just managed to squish himself further behind the dinosaur to keep himself hidden. Dick couldn't see anymore, but he could hear. And what he heard was a few terrifying heartbeats of silence before footsteps began to echo around the cave walls. 

Did… did Bruce know Dick was here? A pool of unease swirled in his gut; feeling something like a swarm of moths. He couldn’t honestly predict if he'd be able to fight Bruce and take him down on his own. Not with how little was known about this entire situation. He'd fight if he had to, but how bloodied and bruised he'll be after it was in the air. 

Right when the sound of Bruce's booted feet slamming against the cold, stone floor became almost unbearable, Dick finally realized that those aforementioned footsteps were actually walking away from the T-rex. 

With a spoonful of bravery that he dug up somewhere from his gut, he poked his head around the leg of the dinosaur. 

And Dick realized that moment that he didn't have any choice anymore. Bruce was walking towards the lab with clenched fists. 

The antidote. 

Dick was generally known as an impulsive person. Most people, when they thought of the phrase "leaping without looking" they would oftentimes link Dick to those words. 

Dick liked to think that he planned ahead more often than not. That he didn't always make split second decisions based off from adrenalin and the heat of the moment, but right now, he barely even knew that he was running until his arms wrapped around Bruce's throat—his chest going flat against the older man's caped back—and he was tugging back with all his might. Bruce's fingers which had been previously reaching for the in-process antidote hung mid air for a moment, but that moment did hardly nothing for Dick to prepare for just how quickly Bruce moved while being mind controlled. 

One moment he was struggling to drag Bruce back, and the next he was in the air as Bruce used the very same move Dick had executed earlier to get out of a similar chokehold. 

All the breath in Dick's lungs left in an aching  _ whoosh _ as his back hit the ground. His vision swam and his nose pulsed with a newfound revenge. With lightning quick reflexes he'd been honing ever since he was a kid, he turned to his side to avoid a heel on it’s way towards meeting his jugular. No thank you, he really didn't want a crushed windpipe or broken neck today. 

He sucked in a lungful of air and pushed what will definitely be a giant bruise on his back to a corner of his mind that he'll deal with later. He kicked out at Bruce, hitting the man in the shins, before he scrambled to his feet and grabbed his escrima sticks from his back. He really didn't want to use these, but with how violent Bruce was, he really didn't have a choice. 

"Okay," Dick said, hyping himself up by bouncing on the balls of his feet. Bruce stood stiffly before him, eyes narrowed and blank, like the lights were on but no one was home. His body moving for him, calculating the next best step for him. "Okay. Bruce, I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to."

Bruce growled, and not for the first time Dick was reminded of a wild, feral animal. 

Dick's body went on autopilot immediately after that. Everything became a blur of dodging and dealing blows. Bruce surprised Dick at first, but now Dick was ready. He knew what to expect. He's fought Bruce in similar situations to this before, all he needed to do was treat Bruce like he would treat any other dangerous villain. Punch until concussion. Deal blows until they're down. And don't you dare fall down first. 

For a while, they're pretty even. Bruce was missing as many blows as Dick was, but when Bruce hit, he hit  _ hard _ . And he played dirty. Grabbing at Dick's hair, going for his groin, looking for those tiny millimeters of a window to throw his fist through. After a particularly forceful blow to his stomach, Dick just barely managed to avoid a knee aiming for his already shattered nose by forcing himself to fall back instead of forward like his knocked out air desperately wanted to. 

Dick though, he went for the legs. Most people when they fight Bruce think all they need to be is quicker and stronger than him—or have the bigger weapons. But Dick knew that Bruce had more muscle on his upper body than lower. Bruce trained his legs to carry him across the city and do amazing feats of parkour, but you're more likely to get a fist than a foot heading your way while fighting him. If Dick managed to get him down onto the ground, he had a split second chance to get him restrained and knock him out. 

It was a plan more easily said than done. This… warped and controlled version of Bruce had no restraint. He didn't pull his punches, he didn't take things slow for the sake of his own body, multiple times Dick caught his fingers twitching to where the batarangs would be inside his utility belt just to remember with a snarl that he had gotten rid of the whole accessory. 

However, Dick could feel the close quarter battle beginning to wear him down. Throwing punches and taking hits were exhausting. Dick was confident that by the end of this, he'll have bruises to match his suit, maybe even a few broken bones if things went downhill. 

Well...  _ more  _ downhill.

Dick slammed his escrima into Bruce's jaw, finally landing a blow hard enough for Bruce to stumble. Not wasting the opportunity presented to him, he dove under Bruce's arms and turned the electricity of his escrima on. He was just about to slam the lightning tipped ends of his weapons down into Bruce's thighs when all of a sudden, Bruce recovered quicker than what should have been possible. Dick only had enough time to think  _ oh no _ before Bruce swirled out of the way with a flick of his cape. Instead of meeting a fleshy body in his attack, he ran into the darkness of the cape, the weight and firmness of the material forced him to drop his escrima unless he wanted to shock himself. He tried to back out of the way, but then Bruce used that to his advantage. He wrapped the cape around Dick's upper body then punched violently into Dick's gut. 

Immediately, all the air was knocked out of his body and his eyes widened like a bug as he started into the dark kevlar, brain struggling to come up with a plan b. 

There was no Plan B. It was get Plan A right from the get go. Plan B was figuring out just how far Bruce would go. If Bruce would kill him. 

The cape unraveled from his body, and Dick soon found himself being shoved blindly forward. His eyes took in information rather quickly though, and it took every hairsbreadth reflex he had to not completely hurtle himself off the main platform of the cave and down below into the white waters to follow Bruce's abandoned utility belt. 

He threw his arms back and desperately dug his heels into the ground, but the world began to spin when Bruce shoved him one last time. 

Somehow, within the chaos of being shoved down into the cave waters and the pain his bruised body was in, Dick managed to grab onto the ledge in just the knick of time. His legs swung below him as the strain on his fingers and biceps immediately began to burn. He hung there for an agonizingly long moment, trying to make heads and tails of the new situation he now found himself in, before a dark figure above him came into view. 

Dick's never seen that angle of Batman before. All anger. Violent. Below a lifted boot. Dick winced as the sole of Bruce's shoe stepped slowly onto his right hand. 

He was officially, royally screwed. 

And with that thought, a million more flooded into his brain like a damn burst. He was going to die here. Bruce would kick him into the waters and Dick will never be found again. Or, when he is found again, his body will be bloated and long without a soul to occupy it. 

He supposed it could be worse. Bruce could have beaten him to a bloodied pulp and left his corpse on display for whoever came into the cave next. This way, at least, no one would have to see the light gone from his eyes, like he had seen all too often in his own sibling's faces. He'll be dead, gone, untraceable. His only hope was that Damian wasn't the first one down here. The first to realize Dick was dead. 

For good this time. 

And that was when the complete panic set in. The thought of dying  _ again _ . He knew what death felt like. He had felt it happen. He remembered exactly what it was like to take his last breath. His last blink. His last struggling move. Sometimes, he'd wake up in the dead of night, hyperventilating and in a cold sweat, wiping at his mouth desperately because he could still feel Lex Luthor there, holding his hand over his mouth and nose, forcing an acidic tasting pill between his lips. 

How long would it take this time? Was the drop long enough for the water to feel like cement when he eventually hit it? Would the jagged rocks knock him out before he could really taste death again? Against his better judgement—the better judgement screaming that there was no point delaying the inevitable—he reached with his free hand to grab Bruce's ankle. He didn't want to drag Bruce down with him, but he was  _ scared _ , and he didn't want to die feeling  _ alone _ . 

Once his left hand was crushed, he would let go. 

The pressure continued to come down onto his fingers, Dick grimaced and ground his teeth. This was it, huh? These were his last moments alive?

Right when he felt something on his hand give away with a snap and he was sure that it was time to end, Batman all of a sudden jerked back, small arms wrapping around his throat in a blur of red. 

Dick scrambled to keep his grasp on the ledge as Bruce stumbled backwards out of sight; he definitely had a broken finger and his biceps burned with the  _ need _ to let go. His ears were ringing now, pulsing to the tempo of his heart, but somewhere above him he could hear yelling and the exchanging of blows. Fists hitting flesh. There were multiple voices as well, all yelling above each other, tones mixing with tones. He couldn't tell who was here. All he wanted to do was push past the weariness settling in his bones and heft himself up to help fight. Bruce wasn't someone you could just…  _ fight _ on your own. 

Dick needed to help. 

He bent his arms, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, but his strength suddenly left against his will, mocking his title as an acrobat, sending him jerking down and losing the grasp he had with his right hand. 

He was hanging on with one hand now, swinging dangerously, just a brush away from falling and getting lost in the underground ocean forever. 

He didn't want to die. Not like this. He never expected to live past thirty, but // _ still _ . He was twenty-seven, hanging by the tips of his fingers, about to fall. 

He was  _ twenty-seven _ . Younger than what his parents were. 

There won't be a body to bury. 

He was going to die. 

His five fingers trembled under the weight, no amount of adrenalin or hope could get him to climb up on his own power. He hoped Bruce and whoever he was fighting up there won't feel too bad about not getting to him in time. 

He finally lost his meager grip, and for a moment he was weightless. Hanging mid air. Eyes wide behind his mask as he stared past his empty hand reaching towards the roof of the cave. 

Then, everything jolted. A pair of strong hands wrapped around his wrist, bringing everything to a halting stop. He gasped, cherishing the rush of air that ran past his throat into his lungs, and looked up with wide eyes as none other than  _ Damian _ hung over the lip of the drop, the edge digging into his armpits, his face turning red as he struggled to hold onto over a hundred and fifty pounds. Damian could hold Dick for a little while, but eventually he'll either fall with Dick or let go. 

"Dami-" Dick gasped, his heart twisting like an abused foam ball between the hands of an anxious teen. "Dami no-"

"I won't let go," Damian spat with a fire in his eyes. "I won't."

Dick wanted to yell at him to let go and turn away. Don't watch. The last thing Dick wanted was for Damian to watch. 

"Damian!" A new voice shouted, and Dick almost did a double-take at it. Jason? 

"I have him!" Damian shouted, tiny, thirteen year old fingers so tight around Dick's wrist that it was almost bruising. "Hurry!"

Jason didn't answer. Or maybe he did, and it was just drowned out by the sound of battle. Perhaps pushed aside as a new hope soured in Dick's gut. 

The minutes ticked, and eventually Dick managed to get his hand sporting a broken finger up to clutch Damian's little hands. He couldn't do anything other than that to help Damian hold on. There was nothing else to grab onto. 

And that was the point of Robin, wasn't it? To catch Batman if he should fall?

Or maybe that was just Dick's legacy, and it dripped like ink into the ideologies of the suit until it stained the fabric red. 

He didn't get much time to think about it more, because a second pair of arms suddenly came out of nowhere and grabbed onto Dick's wrists. Dick looked up into Tim's masked eyes as the two boys began to work together to drag him up. It was painful and time consuming. Hard work between two brothers. But soon enough, Dick found himself hooking his elbows over the lip of the drop-off, his brain struggling to take in the entirety of the scene before him. 

Jason was kneeling over Bruce, his knee to his back as he locked cuffs over the definitely unconscious man's wrists. Duke stood a little while off, watching Bruce as if he was afraid Bruce would stand up with blood in his eyes any moment now. Steph stood behind Tim, hands outstretched to help grab onto Dick's waist and drag him the rest of the way up. Dick almost questioned how they all managed to take Bruce down so quickly, but then Cass ran up to help Dick get settled in a sitting position so her delicate fingers can brush over his swelling nose, concern pulled between her brow. 

They called in the calvary. 

He turned his face from where the majority of his siblings were—sitting next to him and worrying about him, asking him questions about what hurt and what happened—and he watched Alfred step up to Jason and place a hand on his shoulder before the both bent down to get Bruce on a gurney to transfer to the med bay. 

And the waterworks, right in front of his family, turned on right then and there. 

He felt Damian crawl into his lap and wrap his bare arms around Dick's torso. Dick hadn't even noticed Damian wasn't even dressed. He came down here in a white tee shirt and fuzzy Batman pj bottoms to help out. Through teary eyes, he could see that everyone else was in various states of dress, capes gone forgotten, masks not bothered to be put on, only the most important bits of armor applied. Dick had no idea how they all came together like this to fight Bruce and rescue Dick, but he won't question it for now. 

He just sat there, trying and failing to hold back choked sobs, clutching Damian as close as he could as warm bodies settled around him. 

He sat like that, in bittersweet bliss, until the wrinkled hand of Alfred settled into his shoulder. 

"Let's get you looked at," he said, his face pinched in parental worry and relief. Dick sobbed out a laugh and allowed the others to get him to his shaky feet. They led him to the med bay and sat him down in a cot next to the unconscious, bruised, and restrained Bruce. A stab of worry settled in his gut, but it was quickly squashed when Alfred sat in front of him, hands with years of experience hovering above his nose with a  _ what will we do with you now, Master Dick _ glint in his eyes. Dick flickered his eyes towards the open medbay doors where the others were all either hovering or assessing the damage done in the cave. 

"Now don't you worry," Alfred said, bringing Dick's attention back to him. He helped Dick lay back into the cot and inserted an IV into the crook of his elbow without a second thought. He must've put the good stuff in that bag hanging above Dick's head, he immediately felt sleepy beyond belief. "Everything will be fine when you wake up again, Master Dick."

And Dick breathed a sigh—a breath that he had previously thought he would never be able to take—and let the tension in his body fall away. 

Dick believed Alfred, because Alfred was always right. And the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he’d wake up and find the world back on the correct axis again. Bruce would explain what went wrong and why he went crazy, and the others would all dramatically regale their part in the whole thing. 

He let his eyes fall closed, safety and sleep working together to lull him to a comforting sheet of darkness. 

**Author's Note:**

> woah? you made it to the end? Thank you! 
> 
> Like always, comments are very welcome and much appreciated <3


End file.
